Chapter Text
The lights were hot, but you were used to it by now. Most history and documentary channels on basic cable liked to hit the ground running for February sweeps with something new on one of the armchair historian collective’s pet subjects, and when the inevitable decision to produce yet another Captain America special came up, you were the first one they called.
You nodded at the camera. “When people consider Steve Rogers, they tend to think of him in one of two ways: either the propaganda poster-image of Captain America, or the hometown hero Steve Rogers, who risked life and limb just to get a chance to fight for his country,” you explained, ignoring the way the screen makeup made your nose itch and the stilted phrasing on the teleprompter in front of you.
“These are the images the media most often presents to us, making it all too easy to forget that beyond the patriotic facade, beyond the singular act of heroism we like to recall of a young man desperate to take up his country’s cause, Captain Rogers was a brilliant strategist with an eidetic memory and,” you paused and chuckled, unable to help yourself, “Somewhat known for being a major pain in the backside to his superiors.”
The director quirked a smile and you knew they’d be keeping your changes to the copy in the final cut; you crossed your legs, smiling at the camera, and continued.
“In this program, we’re going to explore the man behind the legend -- the reality of Steven Grant Rogers, Brooklyn born and raised by a widowed mother and not expected to live past the age of three, who defied the odds to become one of the greatest heroes in American history. Won’t you join us?”
“That’s a cut,” the director called, nodding. “We’re gonna go with that take. Hey, take it easy with the creative revisions, yeah?”
You snorted. “Don’t bring me in as an expert and expect me to recite bullshit, John,” you called back and he laughed. You’d worked with him before; he was a favorite of the American History Channel and he had you on speed dial whenever any Cap projects came up.
You never dreamed you’d one day be known as the foremost expert in the life and career of Captain America. By the time you’d reached college, you’d dreamed only of teaching American history at the high school level, but when you found yourself entering grad school and then working towards a doctorate, your studies had taken a very specific turn. When you began your dissertation research, your intent had been a focus on the so-called Howling Commandos and the role they played in turning the tide of the second World War. Along the way, you’d dug up a few fascinating tidbits here and there that left you insatiably curious, and before you knew it, your entire focus had shifted onto one Captain Steven G. Rogers of the United States Army, aka “Captain America”.
You received your doctorate and your dissertation became a very popular book, which became a second revised edition, and then a second book all together, a lecture tour, the television circuit, and now you taught as an adjunct at Columbia while juggling guest lectures, research for a new book on the life of Sarah Rogers, the mother of the man who would become Captain America, and the occasional television appearance.
The current television project would largely be a rehash of your second book, but they were allowing you more leeway to offer insight into the more personal side of Captain Rogers that was rarely discussed: the fact that he was, as Colonel Chester Phillips had once been quoted as saying, “a grade-A, all-American pain in my ass”.
You felt that this side of the Captain represented something of the spirit of America, or at least what it had tried to be: young, reckless, and always up for a fight to defend the little guy. There was talk of doing a conjecture series on how American politics could have been shaped if Captain Rogers had survived the war, to air over the Fourth of July holiday on top of it.
“Let’s take five and we’ll start filming some commercial spots,” John, the director, suggested, and you nodded, accepting a cup of coffee from a stagehand with a grateful nod. You sipped at it and pulled out your phone, content to stay seated under the lights until the break was through, lest you mar your make-up and be attacked by the young woman wielding the powder brush. You had been about to start scrolling through your emails when your phone sprang to life and began to ring in your hand.
Surprised, but noting your assistant’s phone number on the screen, you answered. “Hey Dora, what’s up? I’m in the middle of filming.”
“You didn’t answer your emails! Or the texts I sent!” the harried young woman replied excitedly. She was a grad student, working on a Masters in American military history, and had been working as your assistant on campus to earn a few extra dollars.
“Yeah, because I’m in the middle of filming,” you repeated, smiling to yourself. You liked Dora very much, but she could be a little excitable.
“But they found him!” she practically screeched.
You sipped at your coffee and asked “Found who?”
She didn’t seem to hear you. “It was some sort of arctic expedition, following an energy signature or something and these guys, I think they were military, they were up there and the story just broke, it just broke and I knew you were filming but I tried to text you and you didn’t answer!”
You laughed softly. “So tell me now, we’re on a break. What did the military guys find in the arctic? They already found the Erebus and the Terror, I can’t imagine what else could be up there.”
“They found the Valkyrie!” Dora blurted, and you froze.
“What?” you asked faintly.
“They found the Valkyrie!” she repeated excitedly. “The press has been calling the office nonstop, looking for a quote from you since the news broke! Can you believe it?”
“My god,” you said, shaking your head even as tears sprung to your eyes. It looked like the make-up crew would have to take another pass at you after all, and you wiped away the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Did they find… did they find the remains? Are they being repatriated? If the government won’t foot the bill, we can look towards private investors, and get him home. He deserves to come home.”
It was hard not to get emotional. You had never known Steve Rogers; he had been gone long before you were born. But years of research, interviews, perusing his private papers and learning his stories inside and out, he had earned a fair amount of your affection, even in his absence. You admired him greatly, and it had pained you to think that he had been lost for so long.
You wanted to see him given rest.
“No! You don’t understand!” Dora squealed. “They didn’t just find the Valkyrie, they found HIM! They found him and he was frozen solid but he was alive, he was ALIVE! This all happened like three months ago and they just broke the news, Captain America is ALIVE!”
Your coffee cup fell from your hand and splattered across the floor with a muted thud; you gaped, the phone still pressed to your ear, unable to respond.
It couldn’t be true.
It couldn’t.
Could it?